Hssss
by Amber4
Summary: Chapter 2 is up. It's either hilarious or horrendous, depending on your point of view...
1. The Grand Quest

A/N: Welcome to the zaniness of my third HP fanfic. My other two are quite serious and depressing. Since they can sometimes be a drag to write, "Hssss" came into being to give me relief. So here are The Rules: 

1) The author shalt not appear in this fic, unless in the clever disguise of someone else.  
2) All characters shalt be in character, except when I don't feel like it. Which will probably be most of the time.  
3) The characters shalt not know that they are in a fanfic; furthermore, there shalt not be any sudden stoppings of Time. I'm too modest to pretend to know the characters or have the Powers of a God. Even though I do. Hermione is my best friend and I frequently stop Time as a lark.  
4) Plot Hole Monsters shalt not appear, unless they bribe me with lots of money. That means I will try adhere to some sort of plot.  


That be it. All I ask of you, dear Reader, smart Reader, is to tell me how horrible my sense of humor is. And since I'm not telepathic and can't pick it out of your brain, you must give me a review. Or else I might multiply and scatter all over the internet and you'll never be rid of me. 

Disclaimer: Nothing in this belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, who is neither god nor goddess, but a simple mortal. May we all follow her example. 

Hssss - Chapter 1: The Grand Quest 

Lord Voldemort sat on top of his crystal-hewn throne thinking. He often didn't think and when he did, it wasn't very hard. But right now smoke was nearly pouring out of his ears with the effort of his thought processes. He shifted in his throne, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure in his head. It didn't help. Finally, he lifted a scaly hand and hit the side of his head. A sudden smile grew over his face as the idea sprang full-formed into his mind. 

"Wormtail!" bellowed Voldemort at the top of his lungs. Actually, it wasn't quite the top of his lungs, but a little bit of sound-enhancing magic made it sound that way. 

There was the sound of frantic scuttling and then Wormtail burst into the throne room. He looked harried and distraught, his eyes opened to their widest. He cradled his silver right hand as he skidded to a halt into front of the impressive throne that towered over his head. Some Death Eaters wondered to themselves if it was to make up for a lack of other things. Wormtail, who had seen his Glorious Lord unrobed after finishing the Embodiment spell, thought their musings were spot on. 

"Yes your sneakiness, your hissingness, your 'To Hell With The Boy Who Lived, I'm The Snake Who Came Back From The Dead'-ness " panted Wormtail, his pasty white face somehow pastier and whiter. 

"Ah, Wormtail. I've been thinking." Voldemort missed Wormtail's wince. "Yesss, I've been thinking about the…Sssituation." 

"Situation, El Grande Supremo Snako?" 

"The sssituation with the Potty boy, of courssse. I've been thinking my ssstrategiesss, trying to determined why a Cursssed Orphan could manage to essscape me twiccce." 

"Er, twice?" Wormtail ducked to avoid the Scathing Look Voldemort sent his way. "I thought it was four times, your Forked Tongue-ness." 

"Four timesss?" Voldemort leaned forward, his tongue flicking out of his mouth in annoyance. "No one could essscape me four timesss! Not me!" 

Wormtail's eyes shifted back and forth. "But he did, Great Scaly One. When he was one, when you tried to gain immortality through the Sorcerer's Stone, when he met your diary self, and when you used his blood to regain your Highly Beautiful and Buff Body." 

Voldemort sniffed, dismissing Wormtail with a flick of his hand. "The diary hardly countsss. And one cannot defeat a Great and Powerful Wizzzard when they are only one. But this isss besssidesss the point! I have dissscovered why Harry Potty keepsss essscaping my grasssp." Voldemort at this point leaned back in his throne and smiled. 

Wormtail waited. 

Voldemort kept smiling. 

Wormtail checked his watch. It was a neat watch too, one whose face moved. Currently there was some black-haired boy flying on a broomstick about it. 

Voldemort kept smiling. 

Finally Wormtail sighed. For a Dark Lord, he certainly had some strange quirks. "And what have you discovered, Great…er…Slimy One." 

Voldemort smiled lengthened and curled, becoming quite diabolical. He extended a finger and beckoned Wormtail closer. 

Shuddering as he climbed the steps of the throne (how many times has a rat been swallowed by a snake?), Wormtail hesitantly lowered his ear to Voldemort's mouth. _This had better be good,_ Wormtail thought trying not to breathe in snake breath. 

"It'sss becaussse I don't have a Theme Sssong." 

Wormtail wiped the snake spit from his cheek, straightening in amazement. "Pardon?" 

Voldemort glared. 

"Er, pardon your Snakeness?" 

"Harry Potty hasss essscaped me because I don't have a Theme Sssong." 

Wormtail hesitated and then decided, _oh what the hell_. "Are you sure, absolutely sure that it's lack of a Theme Song, Grand Defeater of Green-Eyed Ones? Are you sure it's not because you're predisposed to dramatic gestures, stupid decisions, and too-long speeches?" 

Voldemort frowned. "No, it'sss the Theme Sssong I'm sssure. Wormtail, my trusssted ssservant, I am charging your with a tasssk. I want you to go and kidnap the Great Sssongwriter Sssir Sssassssssafrasss Sssissssssasssinessssss." 

"Er, who?" 

"Ssssssir Sssassssasssssfrassssss Ssssisssassssinessssssss." 

Still perplexed, Wormtail pulled some scrap parchment and quill out of his ragged robes. "Mind writing that down, you Evil Snake you? I think…um…my hearing is going." 

A dangerous look in his crimson eyes, Voldemort looked at the parchment and suddenly the name was printed there. 

Wormtail studied it. "Ooo, Sir Sassafras Sissassiness!" 

"Isss there an echo? That isss what I sssaid, of courssse!" 

But Wormtail continued on gushing. "I know of him! He's one of the creative minds behind the Weird Sisters! Their music is so avant-garde, isn't it? He supposedly writes at least half of it. And he did such great work on that muggle movie! What, something about a stone was it?" 

"Wormtail, do you _want_ to lossse that sssilver arm?" 

Snapping out of it, Wormtail backed away hurriedly down the crystal steps of the throne. Lord Voldemort may be one apple short of a bushel but he could zing out a spell quicker than any other wizard. "No, your Grand Lord Of Things-That-Go-Bump-In-The-Night. Not at all. I will get this Songwriter for you. I will do it if it's the Absolute Last Thing that I accomplish in my miserable life" 

Voldemort smiled airily. "Wormtail, you grovel mossst delightfully. Forgiven, of courssse. Now, get Sssir Sssassssssafrasss Sssissssssasssinessssss for me. You have a day to do so." 

Wormtail bowed and started to leave the throne room. Then he paused and looked back to his Lord and Master. "Er…why a Theme Song…um…Sir Snakalot?" 

Voldemort looked at Wormtail and raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Why, every Hero neeedsss a Theme Sssong. Without it, they sssurely can't sssucceed. Without the Theme Sssong, how will the Potty boy know that I'm near? Without a ssscintillating melody to sssend chillsss down his ssspine, he won't know to fear me. And I won't be able to triumph over him!" 

Wondering if Voldemort would ever realize that he wasn't the Hero by any stretch of the definition, Wormtail finally shrugged it off. If Voldemort fancied himself a Hero, Wormtail wasn't going to dash his aspirations. "I shall be back within a day's time with the Songwriter, Great Snakeroonie." With these words, Wormtail left the throne room intent on his mission. 

Voldemort sighed and leaned back into his throne. He hoped that Wormtail was successful. Not just because he craved a Theme Song but also because he'd had to come up with some way to kill Wormtail if he didn't. Trying to come up with new creative ways to kill henchmen was tiring. There were only three Unforgivable Curses, after all. 

* * * *

Somewhere, approximately a hundred miles above London, England floated a Castle. It was disguised from all prying eyes below by a huge fluffy cloud on which it rested. Any muggle planes or jets were dissuaded from flying near the Castle by some very clever "You Don't See Me And Don't Want To Come Near Me" charms. Flight control towers wondered why aircraft would suddenly veer around a perfectly empty area of air for no apparent reason. 

The Castle was huge, with spiky, spiraling towers that didn't crumble in the highest wind. It had a huge wooden drawbridge, which was pulled up and the walls were made of a type of stone. Embedded in the stone were jagged pieces of glass that threatened to slice anyone who wasn't careful. No one could be seen walking the parapets; no one could be seen on the darn thing at all. It was almost as if its existence was perfectly natural. Nothing could be heard but the delightful whooshing of the wind. 

Oh, and it was a shocking lavender color. Some Death Eaters had questioned his choice when Voldemort had charmed the Castle purple. They had suggested that a nice yellow would make it look bigger. They had been the first to be thrown out of one of the Castle's many windows. Nobody said a word about decorating after that. 

As the Castle floated silently, its drawbridge began to lower. When it was completely down, Wormtail walked timidly out. The high-speed winds seemed to not bother him in the slightest. Adjusting the parachute pack on his back, Wormtail pulled down the aviator's glasses and walked to the edge of the drawbridge. He peered over it for a second. Finally pulling all of his worthless courage together, Wormtail shut his eyes and jumped. 

"Vooooooldie Foreeeeeeever!" 

As his cry slowly faded away, the purple drawbridge ponderously raised back to the "closed" position.   
  


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A/N: Another chapter sometime next week...we'll see how Harry is doing!    
  



	2. Harley

A/N: Yes, it's the second chapter of my either hilarious or horrendous humorfic, depending on your point of view. 

The Rules Revised:  
1) No Serious/Sirius puns shall be committed. Well, only one. Siriusly, I couldn't resist! Whoops, make that two…  
2) The author shall not appear in this fic, unless Hermione gives her permission.  
3) Er, remember that rule about the characters being in character? Well, chuck it. It's just too much fun to play with their heads!  
4) The characters shall not know that they are in a fanfic; furthermore, there shall not be any sudden stopping of Time. I'm too modest to pretend to know the characters or have the Powers of a God. Although, Hermione told me to tell you that she thinks this humorfic is trash and that you should put that in your review of this chapter. Pfft, what does she know?  
5) Plot Hole Monsters shall not appear, unless they take me hostage and take over this humorfic. If the plot suddenly disappears, that means that they're in charge.  
6) Mary Sue's are barred from this fic with warning tape, police sirens, and my own nuclear warhead. However, chickens and purple cows are welcome with open arms.  


Yeah, yeah, I know, this chapter isn't nearly as amusing as the last one. So sue me, my sense of humor sometimes leaves me at the side of the road. If you think this installment stinks, write a review saying so. Or else the next chapter might be worse… 

Hssss - Chapter 2: Harley 

Harry Potter awoke with a sudden gasp. His hand automatically went to the scar that had adored his forehead since the age of one. Frantic, he leapt out of bed and rushed to the tiny mirror that was on the wall of Dudley's extra room. Had his scar disappeared? 

Pushing his bangs to the side, he peered anxiously into the glass. There was his scar, same as always. 

Somewhat disappointed, Harry returned to his bed. It was about two o'clock according to the clock by his bed. As he flopped down on his back, his thoughts drifted back to the dream that had unexpectedly woken him. Actually, he'd been having strange dreams every night this summer. Most of them seemed to involve purple cows, Ron changing his name to James Bond, and Hermione becoming a nun. Harry had begun to expect dreams to suddenly and shockingly awake him on a regular basis. 

"Hm, something about Voldie, Wormy, and a songwriter? Now why would Voldie want a songwriter?" mused Harry, his face screwed up in thought. "Sounds Sirius. I'd better write him straight away." 

Springing up, Harry went to his trunk and rummaged out parchment and a quill. He went to the only desk in the room and thoughtfully thought of what to write. 

_Dear Sirius, _

I think the world might be in tremendous peril again. My Curse Scar awoke me with horrible visions. I saw Hogwarts being infested with Cornish Pixies, and all the students being forced to become telemarketers. Worst of all, I saw you being forced to dance the tarantella. Come straight away before this horrible vision occurs and we are doomed. 

Most tearfully and prophetically, 

Harry 

P.S. You didn't look too bad in tights and ruffled skirts so don't worry too much! 

Harry read the letter over. It seemed more or less correct. Granted the Cornish Pixies, the telemarketers, and the can-can weren't true but Harry was sure that the world was in mortal peril. After all, he'd had a dream hadn't he? 

Satisfied, Harry stuffed the letter into an envelope, sealed it, and addressed it. He got up and went over to Hedwig's cage. Hedwig was asleep. 

"Hedwig…" Harry rattled the cage a bit. 

Hedwig opened on sleepy amber eye. "Hey, kid, go back to sleep already." 

Harry stared. "Hedwig! You can speak?" 

The owl's other eye opened and she rolled both of them. "Well, honestly. You bought me in magical pet shop in magical alley. And you're surprised I can speak? Sheesh, you're not a bright one, are you?" 

Ignoring the last bit, for surely Hedwig didn't mean it, Harry held up the letter. "Hedwig, I need you to send this letter to Sirius straight away." 

"And didn't I tell you to go back to sleep? I am not going to deliver your bloody letter to that dog. I'm tired, I want to sleep." 

Harry's brow creased in puzzlement. "But, you're a owl. You don't sleep at night." 

"Well, yes I wouldn't sleep at night if I could sleep during the day. But noooo, you have me delivering letters to everyone under the sun! 'Hedwig, take this letter to Herman! Hedwig, bring this letter to Rosa! Hedwig, carry this letter to Bumblebore!' Well, I'm tired of delivering your little letters and I want to sleep!" With that last exclamation, the owl tucked her head under her wing with all intent to keep it there. 

"It's Hermione, not Herman, and Ron not Rosa. And I never sent a letter to Dumbledore, so there!" 

There was a snort from the owl, but no further comment. 

A little angry that Hedwig was being so unreasonable (after all he had a dream!) Harry put the letter back on the desk. He'd get the owl to return it the next day. Then suddenly feeling sleep, Harry crawled back into bed and dropped off at once. 

* * * *

"Boy!" 

Harry woke up suddenly to see Petunia Dursley standing over him, her nostrils heaving like a racehorse. 

"Get up! We need your help!" And with that, she promptly left the room. 

Grumbling, Harry got up and got dressed. He then approached Hedwig nervously with the letter. 

"Er, Hedwig?" When that got no response, Harry tried poking her. 

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY! I'm ticklish there!" The owl swiveled her head to look at Harry indignantly. 

Harry withdrew his hand quickly. "Um, Hedwig, about that letter to Sirius…" 

"What's the magic word?" 

Harry was clueless. "Lemon sherbet?" 

The owl sighed. "No. Please is the magic word. But I'll deliver your letter anyways." 

Harry opened the cage and tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. He then opened the small window in the room and got out of the way quickly before getting hit by a wing. 

"BOY!" 

"All right, all right," Harry muttered. He went downstairs into the kitchen and stopped short at the incredible sight. 

Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley all sat around the kitchen table working. In the middle of the table was an amazing amount of hollowed-out wooden tubes and piles of hairs, feathers, and strings. Each of them would take a tube, put a silver hair, scarlet feather, or violet string in it, and then stick wooden bits onto either end of the tube. 

Aunt Petunia looked up. "There! Sit! Now! Work!" She pointed with her chin at the only unclaimed chair without missing a beat. 

"Er," said Harry eloquently. 

Vernon looked up. "Boy! Come over here and help us make these bookmarks!" 

"Bookmarks?" Harry looked at his Uncle as if he'd gone starkers. "They're wands, not bookmarks!" 

Dudley piped up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Of course they're bookmarks. We're making them for some chap. What's his name Dad?" 

"Ollie Vindar, or something like that," Vernon muttered. "Boy, sit down here!" 

Shaking his head, Harry sat. He looked at the mountain of hollowed-out wands. "Why are we doing this?" 

Petunia snorted. "You git! Vernon lost his job, so we're doing this to make ends meet." She glared at him. "I don't see you working." 

"Uh-huh." 

Before Harry could reach for a wand, the doorbell rang. 

Huffing like an angry rhinoceros, Uncle Vernon got up from the table. "Don't stop working!" he shouted as he got to the door. 

There was a short silence. And then a loud "HARRY!" rang out. 

Harry ran to the door. There stood Sirius Black. 

However, he looked quite odd. He had sturdy black boots, worn jeans, and a red checked shirt on. The sleeves were rolled up and he was growing a tidy beard. In short, Sirius looked like he was about to break out into a chorus of 'I'm a Lumberjack and I'm Okay!' any minute. It was no wonder Uncle Vernon was so upset. The wand Sirius held in his hand didn't help matters either. 

"Hello Henry," Sirius grinned down at him. "How's tricks?" 

"Henry?" 

"JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? SHOWING UP HERE DRESSED LIKE…THAT! AND WITH THAT…WITH THAT…" Uncle Vernon waved incoherently at the wand that Sirius held in his hand, turning several shades of red. 

"Well, y'see," Sirius said very quietly leaning forward, "I'm here to take Harvey for the rest of the summer. And this wand," he continued, tapping it against his head, "is to turn you into a purple cow if you get in my way." 

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!" 

"Um, yeah," Sirius said, leaning back and wiping spit from his face. "Are you going let me take Harley?" 

Uncle Vernon huffed, puffed, and tried to blow Sirius down. Fortunately, he didn't succeed. "Only if you'll take him for the rest of the summer." 

Harry whooped and raced up the stairs, not caring that his name wasn't 'Harley'. Within minutes he was packed and lugging his trunk down the stairs. 

Sirius waved his wand the trunk and it promptly turned into a chicken. "Just carry that, it shouldn't be heavy at all. 

Dubiously, Harry picked up the chicken. He was right; it wasn't any heavier than a chicken normally was. 

"Nice meeting you then," Sirius said to Uncle Vernon, who was turning electric pink. The minute Harry stepped out of the house Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut behind him. 

Harry followed Sirius out…to Sirius' bike. 

"Whoa!" Harry said, cradling the chicken. "Your flying motorcycle! You got it back! By the way, why are you here? Did you get my letter?" 

Sirius' brow crinkled most endearingly. "Letter? Nope, sorry. I'm here because Bumbledore wants me to take care of you. Nobody can find me so the Dark Lord won't get you." 

"You mean Dumbledore?" 

"Uh-huh, that's what I said." Sirius said absently as he pulled out two driving helmets. One was black with silver etching on it that spelled out 'One Bad Dude'. The other was pink with purple cursive that spelled out 'One Hot Mama'. 

Sirius tossed the pink helmet to Harry. It hit him in the head, since his arms were full of chicken. 

"Oops, sorry!" Sirius picked the helmet back up and plunked it on Harry's head. "Think you can hold onto the chicken?" Without waiting to hear an answer, he turned and got on the bike. Harry, hoping nobody that he knew would see him, got on behind. 

"Hartley, you ready?" 

Wondering how they were going to lift off without the neighbors seeing, Harry said, "I think so." 

"Alright then, here we go!" Sirius turned the ignition and started the bike. 

Out of nowhere sprang the English anthem 'God Save the Queen'. Startled, Harry turned his head and squinted. Without any explanation, there was a marching band dressed in red and blue marching down Privet Drive. 

"Aren't marching bands American?" 

However it seemed to do the trick. The neighbors up and down the street came boiling out of their houses, shaking their heads and fists. They were so busy screaming at the band that was playing quite loudly that they didn't even notice the motorcycle that rose gracefully up into the sky. 

Harry supposed that riding on a flying motorcycle was a neat experience. However, riding on a flying motorcycle holding a chicken and wearing a pink helmet was not quite so neat. The minute they hit the air, the chicken began to squawk and try to squirm out of his arms. It took all of Harry's attention to keep his worldly possession from flapping away. 

"Harris, you doing okay?" yelled Sirius over the roar of the wind. 

"Mmph!" answered Harry as he got a face full of feathers. 

"Glad to hear it!" Sirius punched a button on the motorcycle's steering and music by the Spice Girls promptly came belting out of nowhere. "How about some flying music? Ooo, I love this part. 'I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha!'" 

The rest of the flight consisted of Sirius singing merrily at the top of his lungs while Harry tried to keep the chicken's wings from knocking off his glasses. Finally, at long last, the bike began to descend. 

It landed with a thump and Sirius turned off the music with a flourish. "Well, home sweet home. Why don't you just carry that chicken inside?" 

Harry dismounted from the bike and stared at his surroundings. They had landed in a clearing smack-dab in the middle of a forest. A small cabin sat before them. It was nothing special, a rustic one-story. To the side was an old-fashioned pump. And a small pile of firewood neatly stacked. However, what made Harry's eyes widen were all the fairies sitting around the clearing and staring at him. 

There were loads of them. All dressed in bits of silk and satin, their skin was varying shades of purple, yellow, and brown. They were also many sizes, from as small as a thimble to as tall as a tree. The only thing similar between them all was the pair of wings on their backs and the wide blue eyes that were fixed on Harry. 

"Sirius," Harry whispered, gulping nervously, ", are these…um…fairies?" 

"Not fairies, Harley, but faeries. Be nice to them, they're being nice by allowing you and me to stay here. Quite nice folk they are. And don't mind their staring, they're just trying to get a good measure of you." 

"Well, okay." Trying not to step on any, Harry walked to the cabin. The faeries moved their heads to follow his movement. Reaching the cabin door, Harry darted inside and kicked the wooden door closed behind him. 

The minute he did so, he heard uproarious laughter from outside. 

"Never mind them, they got a strange sense of humor," Sirius said, taking in Harry's perplexed face. 

Holding the chicken still, Harry looked at the relatively simple room. Across from him was a kitchen. Actually, it was a rustic kitchen considering that it consisted of a washtub and a wood-burning stove. He was standing in the living room that held a table and three chairs. There were two doors on the opposite wall, which Harry assumed led to the bedrooms. Besides that, there was nothing else to note. 

"Well now Harolt, let me give you the grand tour. That's where we make our meals, that's where we eat them," Sirius said waving at the kitchen and living room. He walked over to one of the door, dragging Harry by the arm. "And this is your room. Throw the chicken inside, it'll be okay." 

Harry did so. 

"So, when are you going to transfigure it back to a trunk?" Harry asked, turning around. 

"Er…" Sirius bit his lip. "That won't happen until I bring you to Hogwarts." 

"What? Sirius, why not?" Harry said confused. 

"Well, you see Harster, I can't because of the faeries. They won't abide by any magic being cast in the same area as them. They'd throw us out and then I'd be in trouble." 

"No magic?" Harry said, shaking his head. "Why stay here, then?" 

Sirius grinned. "They agreed to protect me. Nobody can find me here unless I want them to. If anyone stumbles on this clearing, they won't see a cabin and the faeries will lead them away. They're natural protection. Honestly Harvey, what is Hagrid teaching you at Hogwarts? The mating style of Flobberworms?" 

"Actually, yes, but that's not important! What am I supposed to do for clothes? They're inside a chicken!" Harry shouted. 

"Hm, you've only got a month until you go back to Hogwarts," Sirius said still grinning. "We'll ask the faeries to make you some new clothes! I'm sure they'll be happy to!" 

Groaning, Harry shook his head. What had he'd gotten himself into? 

A/N: Next time we rejoin Wormtail on his Great Quest. Will he succeed? Just who is Sir Sassafras Sissassiness? Such important, all-consuming questions will be answered! Or they might be chucked out the window, who knows?   
  



End file.
